


Choices

by SweetlyDesolated



Series: Vinewood [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetlyDesolated/pseuds/SweetlyDesolated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“You could be great, you know...”</i><br/>Harry Potter goes dark. It seems this is what everyone feared, and is thankful he never did. Or so they thought. Begins at the Third Task, in the graveyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alliances with the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been edited and is co-posted on [FanFiction](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1681383/).

“You could be great, you know,” the man said as he paced around where Harry was tied to the gravestone. He unconsciously repeated what the Sorting Hat told Harry as the boy begged for Gryffindor over Slytherin.

The teen tilted his head to the side, staring up at Voldemort curiously. His scaly-looking skin was pale, and red eyes glinted from deep-set sockets over a flat, slit nose. He heard hints of a hiss in the man’s speech.

“And how would I manage that?” he asked curiously.

Lord Voldemort stopped his pacing and approached the bound Harry until their faces were inches apart. With a slightly manic grin, the man whispered, “Just join me. I won’t lie to you, or withhold information, not like Dumbledore.” He spat the name like a curse.

Harry stared into those gleaming ruby eyes as he considered. He was much brighter than most gave him credit for, but between growing up with Dudley and his relatives, and then befriending the jealous Ron and studious Hermione, Harry had learned to hide his true self.

He considered the man’s proposition. Professor Dumbledore left him with a family who abused him while growing up and told Harry nothing of his heritage. Dumbledore kept secrets from Harry and endangered his life each year. His friends held him back, and his godfather was an overgrown child from thirteen years in Azkaban. Though Voldemort killed his parents, Harry was sure he had a good reason; maybe he’d tell him, since no one else had a good reason.

The bonus to the man’s offer was knowledge, and the chance Harry would get to escape his relative’s house. Harry had very high self-preservation, and he figured Voldemort of all people would help keep him alive. After all, it was Voldemort who ended up trying to kill him each year, and with a truce, all Harry would have to worry about would be staying secretive.

Voldemort remained patient as he stared into the emerald eyes of the teen that helped bring him back to life. He saw the boy’s decision in Harry’s posture, and a smirk overcame his snake-like features.

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled steadily. He told Lord Voldemort, “Yeah, okay, I’ll join you. But I expect you to hold up your promise of knowledge. Now, can you release me? This statue is digging into my back.”

The older man chuckled and waved his hands. The bonds holding Harry broke and the teen fell forward directly into his arms. He easily caught the boy, and was surprised at his lightness. A small blush dusted over Harry’s cheekbones as he steadied himself with hands on Voldemort’s shoulders. The man gently set him on his feet and returned Harry’s holly and phoenix feather wand.

The Dark Lord ignored the slight tingles he felt when he had Harry in his arms – the boy was only fourteen for Merlin’s sake! He led Harry over to his father’s grave, where the large cauldron was set up, but the fire no longer burning. They found Pettigrew still mourning the loss of his hand. With an infuriated sigh, Voldemort slung a spell at the man’s limb that cauterized the wound to stop the rat from bleeding out.

“Th-thank you M-Master,” Wormtail stuttered.

Voldemort waved his hand, dismissing the rat. He turned to Harry, and their eyes met once again. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll need a mask,” he told him.

Harry’s eyes asked the question why.

“Do you really want Dumbledore to know that you’re for the dark? You won’t be allowed back in Hogwarts, and he’ll probably try to kill you.”

“Oh,” was Harry’s answer. “It can’t block my mouth and nose, though,” he continued with a shiver.

Voldemort knew Harry wouldn’t answer, so he saved a moment of questions. Firstly, Voldemort pulled off Harry’s glasses and whispered a temporary spell to correct the teen’s vision – the mask wouldn’t fit otherwise. “When you put your glasses on, the spell will end,” he warned Harry, rewarded with a nod.

The man ran a finger down the teen’s arm where Wormtail had cut him for the blood required by the ritual. Droplets collected on his finger as the teen hissed at the pulsing pain. A flick of Voldemort’s yew wand resulted in the blood transfiguring into a half-mask, bone white in color with blood-red designs. “Since it’s made with your blood, only you can take it off unless you give permission,” the man explained.

Harry nodded and tilted his face up to allow Voldemort to place the mask on him. He felt a tingle of magic around its edges, and it stuck to his face comfortably.

“Do you understand?” Voldemort asked, lightly tugging on the edges. Harry’s face moved with his pulling fingers, rocking the boy on his toes. Voldemort released the edges of the mask but kept his hands on Harry. He ran his fingers through the wild, shaggy hair, willing his magic to lengthen it and add streaks of color, purple and blue, if only because Voldemort could. Finally, Voldemort waved his wand and Harry’s clothing turned to that of decorated black robes with black pants, an emerald shirt, and slightly heeled boots. The glasses were slipped into a pocket on the inside of the robes.

“I’m unrecognizable,” Harry remarked when he was shown his reflection in a conjured mirror.

“What do you think; is it tolerable?” Voldemort questioned, before turning to Pettigrew with the intent of calling his followers.

From his peripheral vision, he could see the teen nod his head happily, still staring at his reflection. “It is, Voldemort.”

The man ignored the fact the boy had dropped the title. At least he wasn’t calling him by his hated Muggle name. “Give me your arm,” he hissed at the crumpled Pettigrew, still mourning the loss of his hand. The idiot didn’t realize he could have just cut off a finger rather than the entire hand.

The rat held up the smoking right arm. “Not that one, you idiot!” Voldemort exclaimed. Pettigrew whimpered again but displayed the Dark Mark emblazoned on his left forearm. Wormtail hissed at the sudden pain of the calling of Voldemort’s feared Inner Circle. Voldemort heard Harry groan from behind him, and turned his head to see the teen press a palm to his scarred forehead with a pained expression on what was visible of his face; Harry slipped the mask off and let it drop to the ground as he crouched and released a quiet whimper.

Lord Voldemort released Pettigrew and went to crouch before Harry. Voldemort was quick to replace Harry’s hands with his own; he felt the heat radiating from the rebounded curse scar and wondered. A murmured spell and a press of his lips to the heated area brought down the temperature to that of Harry’s skin.

Wide green eyes stared up at him, questions in their depths; Voldemort gently replaced the mask over Harry’s face, hiding the eyes momentarily. The teen couldn’t voice anything as Voldemort’s followers started to Apparate in at that moment. Where there had been lots of open space, there was now a large circle composed of black-cloaked figures, all falling to their knees.

“Cedric’s body and the cup!” Harry reminded him as Voldemort spun around, taking in the sight of being around his Death Eaters once again. There were many gaps in the ranks – he’d have to fix that soon.

Voldemort glanced around and saw the sprawled figure out of the circle. He cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on the dead student and the tournament cup with a nod of thanks to Harry. Pink lips parted in a toothy grin, and Voldemort returned his attention to his followers.

He knew where the missing Death Eaters were hidden, but asked his followers to see if any had since been discovered: “And what of Crouch?” he asked. “Snape? Karkaroff? Where might they be?”

“I knew it!” he heard Harry exclaim.

“Knew what?” he asked, drawing the Death Eater’s attention to the teen’s presence.

He saw Harry’s smirk. “That Snape was a Death Eater of course. He’s much too mean to be anything else.”

Voldemort shook his head fondly, a small smile upon his face. His thoughts exploded – how was he so fond of the teen in just a half-hour’s time, when he had been trying to kill him for years? He studied the teen carefully as he continued to address his followers. He was quite happy to note that none of them knew Crouch was alive, but was pissed to hear that Karkaroff, the coward, had apparently deserted his ranks.

“A team of you will hunt down Karkaroff. My other two are spies, one at Hogwarts, and the other on Dumbledore. If we don’t want Karkaroff to speak more names than he has already, he needs to be taken care of, and soon. I expect him dead within the week,” Voldemort told them, running his fingers down his yew wand threateningly.

A few of the Death Eaters nodded, signifying that they’d be the ones to hunt down and kill the betrayer.

“Now,” he began again, “I want you all to start pulling yourselves together again. We need more people in the Ministry. Recruit younger, ambitious people in the offices, places of importance. Lay listening spells on their belongings rather than their person, otherwise they’re too noticeable. Talk to them after they have proven to not be reporting to others. These ranks need to be filled if we are to complete our plans.”

The anticipation in the air was thick. With a gesture, Voldemort dismissed his followers. They each crawled forward to kiss the hems of his robes and then Disapparated away. All but Wormtail and Harry left within moments, none wishing to face the Dark Lord’s wrath.

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Most of them are idiots; it’ll be a wonder if anything’s completed when I need it done. Wormtail, clean up here and return to the Manor.” He stared around him and remembered placing the Notice-Me-Not spell on the dead boy. He removed it and stared at the _Avada Kedavra’d_ Diggory blankly.

Harry said, “We should send him back to the maze; I’m sure his parents want his body.”

Voldemort switched his attention to the living teen; he ignored the scuffles of Wormtail as he maneuvered the large cauldron from the fire pit and erased the signs of a fire, all with one hand. “How will you get back to Hogwarts?” he asked.

He shrugged. “You could rough me up a bit, call Snape, and have him return me to the school.”

The older man mused. “It’s not a bad plan. I think we should tell him you are with me now and Obliviate him if he tries to run off and tell Dumbledore.”

“That sounds better.” Harry grinned, his teeth white in the near darkness.

Voldemort swallowed and glanced away. “Well, let’s get back to the Manor. You can see how you like the place.”

“Alright.”

Voldemort used _Wingardium Leviosa_ to levitate the Triwizard Tournament cup over Cedric’s body, which disappeared a minute later as the portkey activated when touched to human flesh.

The most feared Dark Lord held out his right arm to Harry. “Hold on tightly; Apparating is much faster than walking.”

Harry easily grabbed on to the man’s arm, and experienced the smothering, sickening feeling of Apparating. One moment and they were in the cemetery, the next outside a wrought-iron fence. “I have to key you into the wards,” Voldemort explained. He chuckled as the teen held on to him for balance.

He grabbed Harry tightly, as the teen was still panting from the first side-along Apparition, and Apparated into the Grand Hall, of his father’s family Manor.

-o-

The place was pretty decrepit, but Voldemort had many of his follower’s house elves cleaning it. The ancient Manor was progressing in condition each day as it was strengthened by magic.

The wards included a Fidelius spell, much like what Dumbledore’s Order used back in the day. However, the secret keeper was Nagini, as only Voldemort, and now Harry, could understand Parseltongue, and were thus the only ones able to access the manor without an invitation, a burning Dark Mark.

Anti-magic-detecting wards lined the grounds as well, for Voldemort didn’t want the residue to be tracked to an empty plot of land where the Fidelius could eventually be destroyed.

There were anti-Animagus wards, though Pettigrew was keyed in as he was a good spy, if nervous most of the time.

The anti-Apparition wards had the Dark Mark keyed in, or allowances at certain marking times for a Dark Mark plus one. He had to enter Harry’s magical signature in to the wards, as he planned on teaching the boy to Apparate and to be an Animagus, though Voldemort himself was unable to perform the last. He hoped to change that, and soon.

There were heavy Muggle-repelling charms around the place, as he didn’t want them to question why the Manor no longer stood, even though it was never knocked down. One of these days, he would go and Obliviate the knowledge of Riddle Manor, but that would have to be when he had more followers – of course, he’d have them do the dirty work.

-o-

He conjured a chair for Harry next to his own at the top of the dais in the Grand Hall. He gestured for Harry to sit as he considered sending a burst of his magic through the Manor for Nagini, his familiar and Horcrux. She was an overgrown Inland Taipan snake from Australia, but as one of the most venomous snakes in the world, he depended on her for survival as he waited for his return to his body. He decided against calling her, saving the meeting for a later date.

“What did you think?” he asked Harry. The teen was gazing at him, emerald eyes wide. He had removed his mask, and it was perched on his lap as if it, too, were staring at him. Voldemort was a little wary of the silent child sitting across from him.

Harry shrugged, and he relaxed. “I don’t know; most people from before my time say you are excessively cruel, and yet you are only having Karkaroff killed because he defected. No one was punished tonight with the Cruciatus Curse, though I’m guessing you’ll use it on Snape if he doesn’t show up, or tries to run with me. It was pretty much like any normal meeting with a higher power, except that they crawled to kiss your robes. Why is that?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “One day, one of the tortured did that as a begging excuse for me to end the spell, and the others saw it and repeated it. Now, it’s just normal. Usually, though, when we’re in a place like this, the Death Eaters just genuflect and Apparate away. It’s much easier that way. And I don’t have to scrub these robes before I wear them again.”

Harry smiled wryly. “So if you were standing and I was to kneel down and kiss your feet, what would you do?” the teen asked, a light flush defining his cheekbones.

Voldemort had no answer, struck speechless. He was saved by the arrival of Wormtail, who pretty much crawled across the stone floor, awkward with only one hand. The disgrace of a man held his arm on the bottom step of the elevated floor, Dark Mark displayed. Voldemort sighed and smiled warily at Harry. He descended down until he could press his wand into the Dark Mark, hissing, ­+Severus Snape+ to gain the single man.

He dismissed Wormtail and reclined his throne. “You should put your mask on again; we don’t want him to know it’s you until we decide,” he told the slouching teen. “And sit straighter!”

Harry bared his teeth menacingly, and Voldemort’s eyebrow rose at him. Harry smirked back and held the mask in place on his face until the blood magic activated. His hand dropped to his lap, where his fingers twisted together nervously.

Voldemort found himself staring unabashedly at the slim fingers. With a minute shake of his head, he reached over and separated the hands with his own, cradling the small hands in his own. “Stop that; this waiting makes me anxious enough without having to watch your own nerves,” he complained.

Harry smiled but complied. Neither noticed their hands remained together on Harry’s lap. They heard the faint crack of Apparition, soon followed by hurried footsteps and panting breath. Snape entered the hall, his robes flying behind him. His mask hid his facial expression, but his nose was enough to identify him.

“Sseveruss Ssnape,” the man hissed, his words falling into the hiss he dictated used for his Death Eaters.

Snape glanced around him, eyeing his newly formed lord perched on a throne holding hands with a younger male. He saw none others around him and proceeded to bow before straightening and pulling off his mask. The white shield wasn’t blood formed, but it was shaped to his face and adhered by magic. Snape slipped it into a pocket and gazed blankly at his lord.

As if realizing the position he was in, Voldemort slipped his hands from Harry’s, the skinny fingers chilling as they were left to the open air. He stood from his rather uncomfortable throne, and calmly walked down the two steps to stand face-to-face with Severus. “What has happened?” he asked upon seeing carefully concealed panic within dark eyes.

“The Potter brat never returned from where the portkey took him; the cup returned with Diggory’s body, but not the child, and the rest of the school is panicking about it. In all the chaos, I was able to leave unseen,” he stated in a monotone voice.

“I see,” Voldemort replied dryly. From the corner of his eye, Voldemort saw the teen lean forward in his chair, his emerald eyes narrowed and glaring at the messenger.

The movement also caught Snape’s attention. “What is his purpose?” Severus questioned him, jerking his chin to the sitting figure.

Voldemort turned his back on the spy, advancing up the steps. He paced around Harry’s chair, his fingers running through the long hair. “We’re not sure,” he replied, “but he’s mine and that’s all that matters.” Voldemort felt the small pressure of Harry leaning into his touch and his lips twitched into a smile. The teen was quite affectionate when Voldemort was no longer trying to harm him, the man noted.

One of Voldemort’s hands traced down Harry’s right shoulder and ran over the boy’s arm until it reached his elbow. He gently pulled the sleeve up to display the knife wound from where Pettigrew freed his blood to bring Voldemort to life. “Do you have any of your healing potions?” Voldemort asked Snape. He trailed a finger up the length of the deep wound, collecting the coagulating blood on his finger.

Harry ignored the stinging sensation, instead focusing on the hand carding through his hair comfortingly.

Snape noticed when Voldemort licked the blood from his finger, seemingly unaware, and returned his attention on the multicolored hair. “Yes, my Lord,” he replied, dragging his attention from the bleeding limb and focusing on the one in control of his Dark Mark. “I have a paste, not a potion, though,” he continued.

Voldemort waved one hand in a come-hither gesture. “Bring it here,” he demanded.

Cautiously, Severus dipped his left hand – his non-wand hand – into the front pocket of his slacks and removed a small vial. He advanced up the dais slowly but surely, and knelt stiffly next to his lord and the small boy.

The boy lifted his arm towards Severus, who opened the container before balancing the wrist and vial in one hand. With his other, he dipped his fingers into the paste and smeared them down the length of the wound.

A faint sizzle was heard as the ingredients burned out infection and started to mend the wound, and Severus was surprised to not hear any sounds from the injured one. He glanced up into the face and saw the teen staring at him with emerald eyes, just like Lily Potter’s. Snape froze where he was crouched and his eyes widened. The only other person he had ever seen with Lily’s eyes was Potter, her son. That meant….

Severus rose and stumbled back, catching himself before he fell from the steps. “Potter! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you back at Hogwarts?” His breaths came in gasps, and Severus cursed himself for not asking after the boy. He had sworn to Lily before she died that he would watch over her son. Having Potter here was most certainly _not_ watching over him.

He watched warily as the teen pulled his arm into himself, running fingers over the healing wound. A trace of blood was left under his nails, but Potter just brushed his fingers off on his pants. “I have decided that it is in my best interests to side with Lord Voldemort in the coming war rather than with Dumbledore. If you feel the desire to run from this meeting with your current knowledge to the Headmaster, you will be captured swiftly, Obliviated, and murdered for your spying. Do you understand, Professor Snape?” Harry asked. He stared Severus down, focusing his full attention on the man.

“You’re joking,” Severus deadpanned.

“I can most assure you, Severus, Harry is not joking.”

Severus gaped at the couple. Voldemort ran his fingers through Harry’s hair one last time and returned to his throne. He swiftly conjured a chair behind Severus, extending the dais a few feet at the same time.

“You’re catching flies,” Harry told Severus. The man’s mouth closed with a snap as he processed that Muggle humor. Based on the Dark Lord’s wry grin, he knew it too. Why would Lord Voldemort know Muggle jokes?

Severus sat in the conjured chair swiftly, still gazing flatly at his lord and the run-away teen. Potter pulled the bone-white and blood red mask from his face, clearly displaying his features to the room. He lifted his arm examined the wound again. Dried blood was flaking away as the paste healed it. “That’s going to scar,” Harry stated.

Snape rolled his eyes. “No it won't, Potter,” he told the teen, confident in his own work.

Harry glanced up at him, and then returned his attention to the recent wound. “Yes it will; no matter what potions are applied, everything associated with Lord Voldemort,” he told, nodding at Voldemort, “never completely heals. I think it has to do with the curse scar, but I’ve never been sure.”

“Name one example,” Snape challenged.

Harry pulled his sleeve up farther, displaying an oval of white, ribbed skin. “Second year; even phoenix tears didn’t keep this from scarring,” he replied.

Snape’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And how did you get that?”

Harry wondered why the man never knew, but figured Dumbledore didn’t feel the need to share. A pity, too; Harry could have bribed the man with basilisk parts if Snape would ignore him in class. “A basilisk fang; it just nicked the bone when it punctured my arm.”

Voldemort winced. “I am sorry about that, Harry. My younger self was a little…conceited…with his superiority of the Parseltongue language.”

“And you are implying that you are no longer? What of Nagini, the most venomous land snake in existence today?”

A blush ghosted over Voldemort’s face – the man blamed it on being in a new body and having yet to work all the kinks out – as he replied, “She was necessary for my survival.”

Green eyes rolled in their socket. “Sure, and I’m gullible.”

An eyebrow rose at the conversation. “And I’m Professor Snape,” Severus told Harry, joining in. He’d have to question the teen about the snake’s remains at a later date because basilisk pieces were expensive as anything on the black market.

Harry crinkled his brow in confusion; Voldemort watched on in amusement. “But you _are_ Professor Snape – unless you’ll allow me to call you Sev?”

Snape choked on his breath. “God forbid – if you must, it’s Severus, never Sev. And you are gullible, Potter. This tournament proved that.”

The child glared at him. “Explain to me how I could have gotten out of that one, then,” he demanded of his Potions master.

“The rules are that a competitor must compete up to their grade level – nothing more is necessary. You could have easily tried something simple, like sending a hex at the dragon, and called it quits because you knew nothing else.”

Harry frowned. “Professor Dumbledore implied that I should perform to the best of my ability.”

“But you didn’t take Slytherin preservation into accordance when you came up with your strategy, did you, Harry?” Voldemort questioned him.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temples. “I guess I didn’t, Voldemort. Snape was right, I _am_ gullible.”

Snape let out a short laugh. “Potter doesn’t have a single Slytherin bone in his body; he is entirely Gryffindor like his father.”

Voldemort eyed him warily. “Do I need to get Nagini? I think it would be easier to kill you and send Harry with your body than to Obliviate you at this point.”

The blood rushed from Severus’ face, leaving him paler than usual. “Please, no, anything but the snake,” he answered, slipping from his chair to his knees. He had seen Nagini kill someone before – the venom first paralyzed the victim, and then slowly leached the person’s magic from him. With the loss of magic, the victim died from shock. It was a painful way to go, if the Death Eater’s screams were any indication.

“For your information, Severus, the Sorting Hat wished to place me in Slytherin. Only after I begged was I placed in Gryffindor. So I would say a great percentage of my bones exist with Slytherin tendencies.”

Severus was dumbstruck. Potter was almost placed in his house? He was about to ask why the boy felt the need to not enter Slytherin when his lord spoke again. “Well, Severus, are you going to help take part in deceiving Dumbledore, or must I kill you?”

Snape bowed his head and lifted it, eyes connecting with his Lord’s. He let the man into his mind, feeling the Dark Lord slide around his shields and protections until he could see the truth. A few minutes later and the presence leeched from his mind until his thoughts were his own again. “I’ll help you, my Lord. What do you wish me to do?”

“Well, for once you are truthful, Severus.” To Harry, Voldemort said, “That is a form of magic called Legilimency, where one invades the mind of someone else. The opposition and protection to Legilimency, of which Dumbledore also excels at, is called Occlumency, where one builds a shelter in their mind, something to hide their thoughts.” Harry nodded and absorbed the information. “I know Severus has a few books that should help you on the subject so Dumbledore isn’t able to breech your mind. Give them to Harry and explain anything not clearly understood,” he ordered the Potions Master.

He then grinned at Severus, and to Snape, it looked out of place on the snakelike face. “I’ll need your help roughing Harry up. You can return with him and claim you rescued him from a deep cut, that I left him to bleed out over my father’s grave. That will explain the potion on his arm, and you can claim that it was much deeper, nearly to the bone, and that the artery was slashed.” He turned to Harry. “I would like for you to stay here over the summer, but I have an inkling that your disappearance tonight will instigate some form of hidden guards over your Muggle home. Send me a letter when things go wrong, otherwise I will pick you up a week before your birthday.”

Harry glanced between the two of them for a time, processing the plan and deciding whether his innate masks would be able to keep up with the challenge. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He was hesitant, but Harry knew it was better for him to return and not be suspected than to not and have Dumbledore and the rest after him for eternity, or pretty close to it anyway – the man was so old, he would have to die soon.

Snape suddenly smirked. “You’ll have to Crucio him, my Lord. That is what you used when you were in control in previous years; if Dumbledore thinks you haven’t changed, he won't think too deeply in the fact I managed to get Potter back alive.” Sure, Potter was Dark now, but Snape still hated the incompetent boy.

Voldemort glared into space as Harry glared at Snape, distaste obvious in his eyes. “I’ve seen what that spell does; Viktor used it on Fleur in the maze. I’d rather not have it done to me, thank-you-very-much.”

The ruby-eyed man sighed and thumped his head on the back of his throne. “He’s right, Harry. I’ll save it for last so you can be healed immediately, but you need the spell residue on you in order for it not to seem unlikely that I left you to die without torture.”

Harry pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and thrusting his chin into the air. Voldemort sighed and stood, walking and then crouching next to the angered teen. Snape couldn’t hear what the man whispered to the teen.

+Do you really want Dumbledore to be suspicious?+ Voldemort hissed to Harry. He used Parseltongue since Severus couldn’t understand it, but spoke lowly as it was a private matter. +If Dumbledore is too suspicious, he’ll have people guarding your house at all times, and I won't be able to take you away from them. Does living with the Muggles the entire summer seem like an enjoyable experience? If the dislike of them you’ve expressed is any indication, living with them is much like my history at the orphanage.+

The sibilant speech ran over Harry’s skin, leaving him surprised at the audacity Voldemort displayed. He was certainly possessive, that was for sure, especially if he didn’t want Harry to be controlled by the old man any longer. +Orphanage?+ he questioned. Harry dropped his chin and unfolded his arms, laying one hand on one of Voldemort’s that the man used to steady his crouch. Voldemort laid his other hand atop Harry’s in a gentle, comforting gesture.

+I’ll explain that when I see you next if you subject to the curse for a minute,+ Voldemort returned.

Harry closed his eyes. +Fine, I’ll do it,+ he told the man. +But if I’m under for over a minute, I’ll be quite angry at you.+

“Good boy,” Voldemort murmured. He ran his hand through Harry’s hair, dispelling the glamour. He removed the glasses from their pocket and slipped them over Harry’s eyes. The man took the abandoned mask and placed it in one of his own pockets; a snap of his fingers removed the transfiguration from Harry’s clothes, turning them into the competitor’s garb once again.

+Come along, Harry,+ Voldemort told him. The duo stood, Voldemort holding Harry’s hand comfortingly. The teen followed the man with minimal resistance, and kept his face down even as the man dismissed the two extra chairs and led him from the dais.

Snape followed them, eyeing their twined hands. This was certainly something he had not thought of when he felt his lord’s return. His master hissed again once they were outside and standing in a grassy area, and Potter sat on the ground and laid back. Severus figured the man had told him to lie down as it was painful to fall when in the throes of the Cruciatus curse.

Voldemort brought out his wand and pointed it at Harry, apology in his eyes. With a murmured word, a red light shot from the tip and collided with Harry.

The teen jackknifed into the air, only his heels and head touching the ground. He made not a sound as the curse tortured him, but succeeded in biting through his lip. Blood dribbled from the wound as his arched back caved, leaving him lying hopeless on the ground, still silent.

Voldemort alternated between watching Harry and a minute-glass held in one hand. Once every particle of sand fell into the bottom bulb, Voldemort, Vanishing the miniature glass, canceled the curse and fell to his knees next to the prone form of Harry. The man waved Snape to his side, the other prepared with Cruciatus countering potions. Voldemort rubbed the blood on Harry’s chin with the fingers of his left hand. He smeared it into the earth, murmuring the Parseltongue words that would add the teen to his wards. He helped Severus hold the teen’s mouth open enough to slosh the potions in and rubbed Harry's throat to promote swallowing.

Harry gagged as the taste assaulted his tongue and burned at his bitten-through lip, but the jarring pain in his muscles started to fade. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for the potion to numb him to the majority of the pain.

+The Cruciatus Curse targets the nerves and pain receptors in the body, essentially frying them. The pain is said to have sent many to madness. Neville Longbottom’s parents are evidence of this,+ Voldemort stated. Harry’s head was laid in his lap as Voldemort’s fingers carded through the soft hair soothingly.

Harry’s eyes opened, staring into the upside-down ones of Voldemort. +What about Neville’s parents?+ he asked, curious.

Red eyes darted away from Harry’s face and back again. +The Lestranges, on my orders, attacked the Longbottoms the same night I went after your family, as he was also a candidate for the prophecy child. Rather than killing them with a simple _Avada Kedavra_ , the parents were tortured under the Cruciatus until their minds broke. They live in St. Mungo’s, the Wizarding hospital, and they have no awareness of who or where they are.+

Harry shifted his head in a slight nod. That explained why Neville reacted so strongly when faced with the curse in Defense class.

+Are you able to return yet, Harry?+ Voldemort asked him, concern evident in his hisses, if not his expressions.

Harry sighed. +I suppose, though I do protest against doing this, Voldemort.+

The man smirked back at him. +I know, but it’s barely a month until you will be here again. Just go back with Severus, you will be back here before your next birthday.+

A frown grew upon Harry’s face. He scrambled awkwardly on the ground before finally managing to roll over to his knees and then push himself to his feet. He extended his hand to a smirking Voldemort, and helped pull the larger male to his feet.

+Who was Crouch?+ he asked quickly, remembering the conversation during the meeting that had introduced to him the idea of Professor Snape as a Death Eater.

Voldemort shrugged. +He’s a Death Eater who’s been stationed at Hogwarts. Severus has no clue he’s there; he’s my second spy in the event Severus turned out to be on Dumbledore’s side before this night.+

Harry tilted his head to the side. +So I know him then?+ He and Voldemort started walking back to the path from the grassy area he was tortured on. Snape followed behind them, irked at the fact he couldn’t understand the two’s conversation because of the Parseltongue. However, he thought it very interesting to hear two humans speak the snake’s language, rather than his master and his giant snake Nagini.

The man smirked down at him. +He’s an instructor at your school,+ he responded vaguely.

Harry thought over this semi-answer. Only one professor was new that year, and the others acted as they usually did throughout the years. He smiled smugly. +It’s Professor Moody, isn't it? But how is he hiding who he really is? And wouldn’t the real Moody become suspicious of someone using his image to get closer to Dumbledore?+

+Polyjuice potion, of course. And I think Crouch reported that the man was hidden in a compartment of his own trunk, under the effects of a Stunner or the Imperius curse. Barty has also reported that you are able to throw off the Imperius curse. That’s quite impressive, Harry.+

+Thanks,+ the teen replied, grinning up at the older man. +And that explanation makes sense. It also explains why he’s always drinking from that flask of his.+

The man agreed with him. The group gathered on the balcony to Voldemort’s manor. Snape was standing impatiently, his fingers twitching every now and again.

“One month,” Harry whispered as he stared into the distance, his expression downcast.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Voldemort replied soothingly. He wrapped an arm around the teen’s shoulders and pulled Harry in for a hug, resting his chin on the messy raven-colored hair.

“Not soon enough.” Harry moaned into his shoulder, but pulled back, masking his expression with what looked like years of practice. Voldemort was curious about that fact, but it was getting late and Severus still had to take Harry back to Hogwarts.

Voldemort gestured for Snape to step up. “Go back to Hogwarts, Severus. I expect you to take him there and cover for Harry, or the next time I call you, you will not walk away.”

Severus gulped and tried to hide his reaction. He nodded curtly and held his arm to his side. “Hold on to my arm with both your hands, and I’ll side-Apparate us to the edge of the Hogwarts wards.”

Harry stepped to his side, exchanging one last look with Lord Voldemort. He grasped Snape’s forearm, fingers squeezing his robes and flesh together uncomfortably. “My Lord,” Severus told Voldemort, bowing his head to the man. A quick half-step forward, partnered with a turn, and he and Harry were encased in a void. The pressure squeezed Harry against him and a few seconds later brought the duo right before the giant iron gates of Hogwarts.

Harry fell to his knees, dry heaving. Against his will, Severus found himself comforting the teen. He remembered his first few side-along Apparitions very well, having gotten sick at the end of the transportation. His fingers ran through Harry’s hair until the teen was steady enough to stand. Harry’s hair had the same texture as Lily’s, Severus remembered vaguely.

Severus flicked his wand at the gates. Recognizing his magical signature, the left gate swung open a few feet. The two entered, Harry stumbling next to Snape. When both were on the school’s grounds, the gate closed with a clang. Crying voices assaulted their ears as Harry and Snape approached the Quidditch field. People gathered together, classmates hugging one another in terror.

A circle of yellow-edged robes, with the black of professors dotted throughout the group, was huddled at the edge of the maze, and was the center of most of the ruckus. Harry figured Cedric’s body to be in the center, most likely accompanied by his parents. He and Snape exchanged looks, and the man stared impassively at him. Harry sighed once again; it’d be up to him to carry on the deception. Harry stumbled, falling into Severus’ side. He threw his arms around the man for balance as they proceeded to the edge of the group. Snape walked stiffly, one arm around the faltering teen’s waist so he wouldn’t fall to the ground. Besides, the potion was due to wear away in a few minutes, and the pain would likely bring Potter to his knees if no one were there to catch him.

One Hufflepuff was shoved aside as Harry and Snape entered the circle. She called out, “Professor! You brought him back!” She moved to try and support Harry, but Professor Snape pushed her out of the way, a dark warning on his face. The student stumbled back, joined by the others Snape forced from his path. On the commotion, a few people parted, staring oddly at Harry. The teen lowered his eyes and brought forth tears. A few trickled down his cheeks and under his chin, dripping onto his filthy, bloodstained Champion uniform.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood next to the body, his beard tucked into his belt to prevent it from blowing on Cedric’s father, on his knees and cradling his deceased son in his arms. His wife sat next to him, holding on to the cooled, unmoving hand. “You’ve returned, Severus,” Dumbledore commented when he saw his spy supporting the weeping teen. “Take him to the school; I’ll get the Diggorys sorted out,” he ordered.

Snape nodded and turned, dragging the unresisting Harry with him to the school. Halfway there, Moody joined the duo. Harry assessed the man from under his fringe. This was Voldemort’s other supporter, he thought. Moody – Crouch – alternated between watching the approaching school, his surroundings, and Harry and Snape. He didn’t offer to help support Harry, rather leaving him vulnerable against Severus.

Suddenly, Harry froze. Snape sighed, expecting this to happen soon. He was rather surprised Potter had taken this long to come across the pain from the Cruciatus curse, but it mattered not. Harry breathed harshly, trying to curl in on himself. Snape forced him to continue walking, and each step was agony to his limbs. “What happened?” the disguised Crouch asked.

“The Dark Lord tortured him with the Cruciatus curse, and the numbing potion has worn off,” Snape barked. The grand doors of the school swung open at their approach, and Severus started to lead Harry to the Hospital Wing.

“Let’s go to my office; it’s closer and the after effects of that curse are quite painful,” Moody interjected.

Snape was about to protest, but the clenching of Harry’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Fine,” he hissed, and followed behind Moody.

The distance was torture to Harry, but he held his tears of pain in, expressing his distress in the stiffening of his limbs. Finally, the scarred wooden door to Moody’s office came into view. The man pushed the door open as Severus and Harry entered. He gestured to a chair for Harry to sit on, and Snape led the teen to it, settling him as painlessly as possible.

Severus pulled out his wand and spoke, “ _Tempus_.” The time appeared in the air, and he assessed it before banishing the clock. He pulled another potion from his robes and handed it to Moody. “Give this to him in four minutes; I’m going to tell Dumbledore Potter’s in here with you.”

Snape left the room, thinking that Moody would help out Potter. After all, he didn’t know Moody was Crouch, and that Barty thought Harry escaped from his lord.

Barty watched the door to his office swing closed. He smirked at it then turned to the teen. Harry was resting in the chair, his head leaning on the back support with his eyes closed. Crouch stumped along to a chair propped against a wall, out of Harry’s line of sight. He lowered himself in it and began to undo the brace that held the wooden leg to his stump. “How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?” he asked curiously. If he was right, his lord had performed the spell on the brat, and Potter would be in a lot of pain. It made him happy to know the boy suffered from his master’s rage.

“It hurts,” Harry whispered. “Has it been four minutes yet?”

“Not even one,” Barty replied. He loosened the fake eye’s binding around his head; the Polyjuice would wear off in a few minutes, and he planned on killing the teen for his lord and escaping, returning to his master’s side once he left the wards surrounding Hogwarts. Barty cursed as the eye fell from the brace and landed on the ground. It rolled around, spinning as it gazed off in different directions.

“You know, Barty, you don’t have to run. You could kill the real Moody and disappear for good. Dumbledore will become suspicious if I am here, dead, with Alastor Moody locked in his own trunk,” Potter spoke.

Barty froze in his bent over position, fishing on the ground for the fake eye. Slowly, his single eye lifted with his face until he was gazing at Mr. Potter, his lord’s little brat. “What was that, Mr. Potter?” he asked, not quite daring to believe what he heard.

“I said you don’t have to run. You can stay for the rest of the school year and return to your lord after the summer begins. While leaving me alive, of course," he replied, stating the obvious. As if by some invisible timer, Harry stretched his hand out to Barty. “Pass the potion, would you? I don’t like being in unnecessary pain.”

Barty was still frozen, but the kid’s words got to him. He straightened and leaned forward, placing the closed vial in the outstretched hand. Potter retracted his hand and flipped the lid off. Harry lifted the vial to his mouth and downed its contents. He squirmed uncomfortably as the potion started to numb him, while at the same time making an expression of distaste from the flavor.

“What exactly are you talking about?” Barty questioned. He checked his pocket watch and took note that he had only two minutes to ingest the Polyjuice, or he’d turn back into himself.

“I’ve defected of course, and Voldemort told me that you’re his spy on Severus in case he decides to remain loyal to Dumbledore.” Harry slid around in the chair until he was facing the polyjuiced man; he was a little stiff, but at least the excruciating pain had died down.

He was eyed curiously by the faux-Moody. “Have you really?” the man questioned.

“Yep; Voldemort added me to the wards and I’m staying there for the end of my summer. If you don’t believe me, you could always ask Severus; he was there for most of the time. And he owes me books on Occlumency, too, so Dumbledore will not be let in on our plans.”

Crouch sat back in his chair. He evaluated the boy and decided he was telling the truth. With a depressed sigh, Barty pulled out his flask and swallowed three mouthfuls of the potion. The disgusting slop weighed heavy in his stomach, but his disguise didn’t change at all. With slow, bored movements, Crouch pulled the leg back to him and started to clip it on to the stump of his thigh. The eye came to him when summoned, and he placed it back in its band and wrapped it around his crown. Though he hated the circumstances, Barty was happy he could see all again.

Harry was drowsing in his seat, trusting in Barty. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Pomfrey were approaching down the hall. Barty leaned back in his chair, waiting for the three professors and the healer to arrive.

Madam Pomfrey entered the office first, glancing around at the questionable objects floating in equally questionable liquids perched on shelves around the room. She spotted Harry and quickly advanced to his side, bringing out her wand and muttering phrases while waving it in different patterns.

“What ails young Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked the frazzled woman.

“We need to get you up to the Infirmary,” Poppy told Harry, ignoring her boss for the time being. She conjured a stretcher, and cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on Harry, floating him to the surface. The teen didn’t protest the treatment, and winked at Crouch as he was levitated from the room. The three other professors followed the nurse and the remaining Hogwarts champion, leaving Barty alone to wonder about the future of the Wizarding World if the Golden Boy Harry Potter had defected already.


	2. Thestrals and Dementors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed quite a few things in this chapter, especially compared to the original draft I published on FF! Take care to note the changes, because they will become very important in the future!

The Infirmary was busy when the group arrived; Madam Pomfrey levitated Harry off of the stretcher onto a cot away from the entrance. Harry noted that it was the bed he stayed in each time he was in the Infirmary and smiled wanly.

The other champions and their families were in the room as well. Viktor, with two adults that looked like a mother and grandfather, was propped up in his bed, staring warily at his wand.

Fleur was asleep, her body healing from her own round of the Cruciatus curse.

Cedric’s body was laid out on the other end of the room. His father still sobbed, his mother holding on to his hands, as they sat in chairs to either side of him. Cho Chang was there as well, crying over the death of her boyfriend, and Harry looked away, a little embarrassed. A few Hufflepuffs, those Harry took to be Cedric’s friends and teammates, also accompanied his body, and looked quite upset, though none were outright crying like Cho.

Poppy wove her wand again, but this time the results were on display for everyone to see. The after effects of the Cruciatus, bruised wrists and waist from being bound, a long, starting-to-heal wound down his arm, and the damaged leg from the creature in the maze, as well as a few dozen cuts and scrapes from the bushes and hard landings.

“Are there signs of shock?” Harry heard Dumbledore ask Poppy.

She murmured back, “There aren’t spells to detect it, but based on his posture and expressions, he is pretty close to going into shock. The events have most likely not caught up with him yet.” She redirected her attention to her patient. “You are a mess, Mr. Potter, the woman told Harry. She pulled the curtains closed on the bed after telling him to change into clean pajamas, and left Harry alone. He heard her ordering Severus to help apply potions to his wounds, along with various medications to stop infection.

Harry worked his way out of the torn, dirty, and bloodstained clothes. He wished he could shower because he could feel the sweat and mud caked on his limbs. Instead, Harry made due with a mild _Scourgify_ , running the spell over himself from toes to hair. He finally finished and dressed himself. He settled above the blankets, storing his wand under his pillow. Harry pulled one of the curtains open to signal he was ready for Madam Pomfrey’s treatment.

The woman appeared and handed him three potions. “These are a healing potion, an antivenin for the spider bite, and a Dreamless Sleep. Take the last after we’re done dressing your wounds.”

Harry nodded and drank the first two, one a horrid pink, the other a milky white color. Both tasted nasty. He wondered why the venom from the spider hadn’t affected him at all, and voiced his question.

Madam Pomfrey shrugged along with Severus, and both began working on his legs; Poppy had the one bitten by the spider while Snape smeared salve over the minor wounds on the other. Harry could barely keep his eyes open; the long, eventful day was catching up with him fast. His eyes fluttered shut and Snape cursed. “Stay awake, Potter! Those potions need a while longer to be absorbed before you can sleep.”

Harry groaned and turned his face to the side, rubbing against the surprisingly soft pillow. He grinned sleepily for no good reason, and ignored his professor. Harry fell into sleep, a dreamless sleep unaided by potions.

“Impertinent brat,” Severus commented as he looked upon his Lord’s new favorite. He shook his head and continued dabbing the salve on the many wounds. The one from the knife was already weeks into normal healing; the scabs formed earlier were falling off, leaving a thick, pink line in their stead.

“He’ll be out by tomorrow evening,” Poppy told Severus. “I should think about giving him this bed; he’s in here often enough.”

Severus smirked and sat in the sole chair next to the bed. Poppy left to tend to her other patients, pulling the curtains shut behind her. Snape pulled out his wand and flicked up silencing wards. Using his wand, Severus jabbed it into the teen’s side to wake him up.

Potter flew into a fetal position, cradling his side. His eyes slid open, glaring at his professor through the thick lenses of his glasses. “What do you want?” he asked, annoyed at being woken up.

“You should drink this before you sleep again; you don’t know what you’ll dream about, and what you’ll sequentially speak about,” Severus said.

Harry rolled his eyes, but grabbed the potion anyway. “Thank you for tending to my wounds,” he told Severus as he worked to open the vial.

“Our Lord would likely Crucio me if I left you without medical help,” Severus replied. He squirmed in his seat as the boy gazed at him sleepily. Snape stood firmly. “I will give you the books soon. Now take your potion so I may get some rest of my own,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry replied lazily, saluting him mockingly. A grin adorned his face.

Severus rolled his eyes at the antics and waited for the potion to be swallowed. He grabbed the empty container before it could shatter on the stone floor as the teen fell immediately into sleep. He shook his head and tucked the empty vial - to be later cleaned and refilled - into one of his many pockets. Severus tugged the blankets from under the teen, cursing the fact he did not think have Harry do it while he was awake. He pulled them under the boy’s chin, smoothed them over, and left through the curtains. He slid them closed behind him and left the wing to head to Dumbledore’s office to report the story he was fed by his lord.

-o-

Harry woke the next afternoon. Madam Pomfrey was in her office, and the other champions had been released while he was asleep. Cedric’s body was gone, along with his grieving parents and friends. Harry’s own friends weren’t present, which wasn’t odd considering it was near lunchtime, if the bright sun outside the Infirmary windows was any suggestion.

Madam Pomfrey walked out of her office to Harry’s bed, and the teen figured there was yet another monitoring spell on it. “How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?” she asked him.

Harry warily sat up, expecting to lie back down from pained nerves. Other than a lingering soreness, he was fine. The scar on his arm pulled, and his leg barely hurt at all.

Poppy nodded at his findings and sent a spell to make sure he was telling the truth. “Call a house elf for some lunch, and you may be released this evening. If you leave this bed for any reason other than the bathroom, you’ll be staying here for another night,” she warned him.

He grinned up at Madam Pomfrey and watched her return to her office. He dutifully called a house elf and asked for sandwiches and juice. The elf returned a moment later with the food, setting it on the tray that passed over the foot of the bed, before vanishing with a pop. Harry ate, relaxing in the peaceful Infirmary.

When finished, he left the dishes in place and heaved himself up to limp to the bathroom. His bed was placed so he wasn’t far from it, or Harry figured he would have had to take a break until his body stretched out. Harry first showered to rid himself of the dusting of dirt his spell didn’t remove the night before. He then filled the adjacent tub with warm water and cleansing potions and settled in for a relaxing bath.

After Harry pruned, he left the tub, dried off, and dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas. He entered the Infirmary, the faint limp worked out of his walk. Bored and with no company around, Harry slept again.

-o-

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing. His friends slowly came back, though were wary, as none had heard his story on what happened in the graveyard. Dumbledore cast a spell on Harry’s wand, but other than that, the old man ignored the teen, spending hours locked in his office. Severus claimed that Dumbledore was aware of Voldemort’s return, but doing nothing other than claiming Cedric’s death was a result of the Death Eater who had portkey’d the duo from the maze. Harry agreed with that twist of the truth, and was careful to stay away from his Headmaster lest the man use Legilimency on his unprotected mind.

All too soon, the Leaving Feast was upon Hogwarts. Rather than the winning House’s colors of the year, the Great Hall was a somber black, many banners with Cedric’s name dangling from the ceiling.

“There will be no House winners this year,” Dumbledore spoke as the Great Hall quieted. “With the recent death of your classmate, there is little reason for celebration.”

Surprisingly, no students whispered about this, instead remaining silent. “Before the feast begins, let us have a moment of silence in memory of Cedric Diggory.” Many of the students and staff bowed their heads in respect, eyes closed. Harry glanced around from under his fringe, and caught a few of the Slytherins gazing at him from across the Hall, watching him warily.

Harry’s eyes flickered up to Severus, and found the man appraising his Slytherins with a calculating gaze. The ebony eyes made contact with Harry’s, and the teen blinked and tilted his head in question. Severus’s mind pressed against Harry’s, and the teen felt him enter with no resistance; he had yet to read the books Severus had left in the hospital wing for him, but this intrusion urged him to start the second he returned to the Dursleys.

_They are wondering what really happened that night. Most know my Dark Mark has been acting up, and notes from Death Eater parents have them aware that Voldemort has returned to a living body. Their own questions have sparked inquiries as to where you were that night, and the parents in return told of my Lord’s apprentice-of-sorts, who was there and remained once they had gone._

_Why does that have them curious? Surely, the parents will realize that questioning Him will get them nowhere._

Severus’s lips twitched into a small smirk. The hall was still silent around them. _They wish to know who you are, though the parents are aware that you came back with me. It makes them wonder where you were during the meeting, and the students are beginning to piece things together._

Harry blinked in agreement and felt Snape slip from his mind, for which he was grateful. Even on his own allowance, Legilimency still freaked Harry out with its invasiveness.

“Our wishes to a pleasant summer break. For those who won't be returning for the next term, we wish you luck. For those returning, term begins on September the first. Let the feast begin.” Dumbledore sat in his wing-backed chair, glancing around the subdued hall as the food appeared on the five long tables. He glanced between Harry and the Slytherins, both of which seemed to be having a staring contest. He heard Severus snicker softly to his left, which also caught the attention of the other teachers. Pomona Sprout inched away from the dark man, as few had ever heard him express his amusement in years.

Slowly, the volume level grew again as conversations picked up. Sure, the voices weren't as excited, especially Hufflepuff’s house with their recent death, but the school year was ending and summer was upon them. Harry settled on the bench with an indifferent air about him. He acknowledged Ron and Hermione, but ignored their pleas to tell them what had happened in the graveyard. He knew it was out of character for him to be so removed, but Harry figured his acting skills would need to be up to par the next school year, especially if he wasn’t going to be around his friends over the summer.

-o-

The next morning dawned bright and early. The carriages were waiting at the doors of Hogwarts, and Harry watched the winged black horses pulling them with a curious expression.

A voice next to him had Harry gazing down at a petite, blonde Ravenclaw. He eyed her vegetable earrings and bottle cap necklace, but listened as she explained. “They’re thestrals, invisible to those who haven't seen death.”

Harry nodded at the explanation, and held his hand out for the girl to enter the carriage first. He joined her, followed by Ron and Hermione. Harry sat across from the girl, who had pulled a magazine from a pocket and read it upside down. “Luna Lovegood,” she told him, sticking her hand out to the side of the paper.

He shook her hand with a murmured, “Harry Potter,” and released her fingers. He relaxed into the seat, ignoring the mindless flirting between Ron and Hermione. Instead, Harry chose to stare out the window at the horses pulling the carriage. Why were they suddenly visible now?

The seat next to him was quickly occupied; Luna leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You have to watch the life leave the person. That is why thestrals are considered dark creatures.” Her breath fanned across Harry’s face, his features expressionless. Now he understood.

“What about my mother?” he asked in return. “The dementors bring back the night with the green light striking her, and then coming at me.”

She made a small sound, and angled her magazine so Harry could read along. The boy was captivated with the younger girl and the way she seemed able to read his mind. Did she know of everything, or just guess?

Luna giggled. “No, silly, your face is very expressive. You are quite easy to read. Though, if I were interested, I’d learn Legilimency from Professor Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore would like to exploit my secrets, I am sure. He’d be a bad one to teach me.”

Harry gaped at her brightly smiling upturned face. “That’s a little bit creepy,” he told her.

The girl shrugged happily and returned to the _Quibbler_. A few minutes later, the carriage reached the train station on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Hermione and Ron exited first, with a brief, “We’ll find an empty compartment!” and were gone, leaving Harry and Luna. He stepped out and waited for Luna. She had him wait a moment as she pulled something red and soggy from a bag stashed in one of her many pockets. Luna held it out to the thestral, her hand a small distance from its nose. The beast ducked its head to sniff the object, and its mouth opened, displaying fangs that would normally reside in a cat’s mouth. It ate the food after delicately snatching it from Luna’s palm.

She held the bag out for Harry to feed the other. He scrunched his nose at the gooey feeling as he pinched one of the chunks in the bag. On pulling it out, Harry found it to be raw meat, and was a little disgusted. However, he braved himself and repeated Luna’s process with the other thestral. This one was curious, licking Harry’s hand for traces of blood once it had swallowed the treat.

Luna laughed as her thestral nuzzled her side in search of more. “I’m sorry, you ate it all, Silly!” she exclaimed.

The thestral exhaled grumpily and head butted the girl in the direction of the trains. “Okay, okay,” Luna replied. “Come on, Harry, we should go before they leave without us.”

With a pat to the thestral’s bony neck, Harry joined Luna on the platform where the ruby-red Hogwarts Express waited. Was it just him, or was everything related to Hogwarts Gryffindor colored? Luna led the way into the first empty compartment she found, regardless of the promise Ron and Hermione made. “Sit and shush for now,” Luna demanded, pointing to the padded bench. She waited until Harry was seated before she stood from her place and slid the door shut, locking it with a simple spell and the latch. She pulled the curtain closed as well. “Now you can tell me what really happened in the graveyard that night, rather than what Headmaster Dumbledore has been spreading around the school. I know that’s not what occurred, you and I both do.”

Harry closed up; he stiffened in shock as his face blanked – Luna couldn’t read him if he wasn’t open – and stared at her in surprise. “How do you know that is not what really happened?”

She smiled serenely. “I didn’t, but you just confirmed it.”

Harry sighed and let himself fall onto the bench until he was lying on his back. His feet barely touched the other wall. From his peripheral vision, he could see Luna doing the same, although her feet pointed towards his head. Her magazine was tucked away, all of her attention focused on him. “Can I trust you?” he asked warily. He eyed her suspiciously.

“Of course you can, Silly! Whom else would I tell, the grass? No one ever believes me, regardless of what I say.”

The train started moving at this point, stilling the start of Harry’s story as he waited for the whistles to quiet. They soon stopped, but Harry was interrupted by a knock at the door. “This is occupied,” Luna declared loudly.

The person ignored her statement, and continued to knock. Luna rolled her eyes at Harry and sat up. She brought the locking spell down with a flick of her wand, which she returned to behind her ear, and pulled the locked latch open. With a last knock, the door slid open to display Draco Malfoy, fist poised to rap on the door again. “Finally; I thought you’d never open the door,” he told them, stepping into the compartment and sliding the door shut behind him. He cast the same locking charm, _Claustro*_ , on the door, along with another, _Silencio_ , before shoving Harry’s feet from where they still lay and sitting in the vacated space.

“What was that for?” Harry exclaimed, nearly falling from the bench. He caught himself in time and sat with his feet flat on the seat, knees bent, and facing Malfoy’s profile.

Malfoy’s eyebrow rose at Harry’s comment, but he remained silent until he was prodded in the hip with a foot. He harrumphed snootily. “You’re going to tell what really happened in the graveyard. We Slytherins have heard from our parents that the Dark Lord is back. You were there, and if he’s back, that means Headmaster Dumbledore either doesn’t know the truth, or doesn’t want the rest of us to know the truth. You, however, know what happened, and can tell me.”

Harry sneered. “What makes you think I want to tell what really happened, if anything happened, hmm?”

Draco glared. “No matter how strange and Light-oriented the Lovegoods seem, they have always been Neutral with Dark tendencies. She’d probably force you to tell her what happened regardless of your wishes. My own desires wish to be met with the truth, not the lies Dumbledore has been feeding the rest of the school.”

Harry stared blankly at the blonde, who started fidgeting. “Can I trust you?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Anything that you mention can most likely be used against me, so it is in my best interests to tell only those who would hold interest in the truth. Professor Snape obviously knows, and he taught me the proper security standards so none others can hear what happened. As such, yes, you can trust me to not run off and tell someone who wishes you harm.”

Harry let his head fall back against the window with a sigh. With a last calculating glance between Luna and Malfoy, he began his tale. He left out the fact that Moody was really Barty Crouch, and the emotions he felt when Voldemort touched him, as well as the man’s regret over casting the spell. “You’re joking,” Draco commented when Harry mentioned Voldemort himself cast the spell. Harry had replied negatively, but the other’s statement started a train of thought he followed with little attention as he continued with his story.

“Do you realize that sounds very unbelievable?” Malfoy asked him when Harry was done. Harry agreed, a small smile gracing his lips. For some reason unbeknownst to him, sharing the story with people his own age was a bit of a relief.

A call down the hallway outside the compartment startled the trio. “Trolley!”

Draco cursed. “Do either of you want anything?” he asked while pulling a few galleons from a pocket as an offer to pay.

“Chocolate frogs,” Harry told him.

“Blood-pops,” Luna responded, a dazed expression on her face.

Malfoy seemed disgusted at the last, but pulled down the locking spell with _Alohomora_ and the silencing charm with _Tacitsonus**_. “You should stay in here so no one else wonders why you of all people are with me.”

“Fine with me,” he replied along with Luna.

Malfoy slid out of the compartment and returned a few minutes later with a bag of sweets. Harry took a few of his choice, leaving the lollypops for Luna and the Licorice Wands for Malfoy. He paid little attention to the card he received with the chocolate, instead focusing on catching the hopping frog. Luckily, it only bounced once before the spell wore off and he could eat it. Malfoy flicked the spells at the closed door again before relaxing, chewing on his candy.

“So I’ll be seeing you this summer then, Potter,” Malfoy commented. “My father mentioned the Dark Lord has invited my family to stay at the manor for a few days in August.”

Harry nodded and considered something. He decided to go with the impulse and held out his hand, much like Malfoy did before first year. “If we are to be seeing each other outside of Hogwarts, I think it is best to be on a first name basis. My name is Harry,” he told the other teen.

Malfoy cocked his head to the side, determining whether Harry was honest or not. He smiled a little, different from his normal smirk. “If that is the case, call me Draco, Harry,” he replied, shaking Harry’s hand.

“The same goes for you, Malfoy,” Luna told the blond.

He smirked and held his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Luna,” he responded.

“Draco,” Luna said. She retracted her hand. “You should both be getting back to your friends unless you wish them to wonder why you two are hiding away at the same time.”

“Do you wish to join Hermione, Ron, and me, Luna?” Harry asked as he stood. The wrappers were thrown to the floor, where they disappeared from a built-in cleaning charm.

The blonde girl tilted her head to the side, long, straggly hair falling over her shoulder. “Would I be welcome among your friends?” she questioned.

Harry told her, “You’re my friend, so if they have a problem, we’ll both leave.”

She smiled, teeth flashing in the overhead lights. “Okay then. Shall we go?”

“Let’s,” Harry returned, holding his arm out with a grin. Draco rolled his eyes as Luna linked elbows with Harry.

“I’ll just see you this summer then, yeah?”

Harry nodded and waited for Draco to take the two charms down before he led Luna from the compartment, turning left and stopping to peek in each window as they passed. Draco turned right to head for the Slytherin end of the train.

Luna hummed quietly to herself as the duo walked down the aisle. After passing by more than eleven closed doors, a redhead and a curly brunette came into view, along with Neville Longbottom. Harry pulled open the sliding door and they walked in together and sat side-by-side on the available portion of the bench.

All three glanced up when they sat down, and Ron and Hermione immediately asked where he had been and why he had _Loony Lovegood_ with him. “We were in a separate compartment getting to know each other, Hermione, and her name is Luna, not _Loony_ , Ron,” Harry stated. Luna smiled softly as she pulled out her _Quibbler_ and started to read it, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder.

He relaxed, leaning back into the cushioned seat and closing his eyes. Ron and Hermione’s chatter eventually started up again, Neville occasionally adding something. Slowly, Harry fell into a peaceful sleep, undisturbed by dreams.

-o-

He felt a hand shaking his shoulder, jerking him from his rest. Harry cracked open an eye and saw Luna staring down at him. “We’re almost at the station, and you should change before you leave the Magical World,” she informed him.

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry replied. He stood and tugged his robes over his head, leaving him standing in large, raggedy clothes. He stood on his tiptoes to reach his trunk, set in the rack above the seats – the case had appeared during the last part of the ride, as magic settled each student’s objects with the owner. Harry flicked the latch up and stuffed his robes, after pulling his wand from the inside pocket, into the open trunk. He sat on the trunk to compress the lid before locking it again and returned to sitting next to Luna, copying her and tucking his wand behind his ear for the moment.

Luna handed him the copy of the _Quibbler_ she had been reading earlier, as she pulled out the next month’s copy. “Why are you reading that, anyway, Harry?” Ron asked him as he stopped the chess game he and Neville were playing. Ron was winning, and the beaten pieces were slowly hobbling to their places in the box they were stored in.

“Because it’s entertaining,” he replied.

“It’s just a bunch of lies,” Hermione stated, looking up from her very thick book.

Luna frowned as she glanced up from it. “My father’s the editor, thank you.”

Hermione flinched back and hurriedly apologized. Luna glared briefly, but returned to reading her edition. Harry relaxed against her and read his, ignoring the conversations as Ron and Neville returned to their game.

A few minutes later, the five felt the train slowing, and packed up their loose belongings. Harry handed Luna her _Quibbler_ , but she gave it back, saying, “You’ll need to know everything in that, so read it over the summer.”

Harry grinned wryly and loyally stuffed it in his trunk. He moved his wand to his front pocket. It fit nearly entirely in the loose pants – handed down from Dudley – but he covered the handle with his shirt anyway. The train gradually stopped as it pulled into the station. All of the doors to each compartment opened and the aisle soon flooded with Hogwarts students. Harry helped Luna retrieve her trunk and he followed her out the door with his. Ron and Hermione came after, bickering over something pointless to Harry.

The group exited the train and Luna quickly spotted her father. She gave Harry a hug, which he returned awkwardly. “I’ll see you soon. And be sure to mention me to Him next chance you get,” she whispered as Ron and Hermione waited impatiently. “See you,” Luna told the other three. She left, tugging her trunk behind her.

“Bye, Neville,” Harry told the other boy as Neville found his grandmother.

“Bye, Harry,” he shyly returned, and walked off, leaving Ron and Hermione with Harry.

“I’ll see you on September first,” Harry informed his friends.

Ron was confused. “You don’t want to come to the Burrow this summer?”

Harry shook his head. “I have some things to think about, and I’d prefer to not be interrupted while I do so,” he replied.

“If you say so.” Both Ron and Hermione were staring at him oddly, but Harry dismissed the looks.

He shifted in his stance, swaying as he waited for them to speak again.

“Well, I’ll tell Mum then, alright Harry?”

He smiled, relieved, and waved goodbye before heading over to the gate and the Muggle world. As he left, he heard Ron tell his parents Harry was busy this summer, and would see the group the next term. Harry ignored the glance from the redhead’s parents as he exited the Muggle world and was reunited with his disgruntled uncle and disapproving aunt.

-o-

Severus was quite irritated as he nearly jogged onto the Hogwarts grounds. The Dark Mark burning on his forearm had steadily gained in strength as he took his time in gathering his cloak and mask, and alerted Dumbledore. The elder man, having heard Severus’ abridged story about the graveyard, knew the Dark Lord was back, but he didn’t know of Harry’s or Severus’ true alliances, which was exactly what the two raven-haired males desired.

However, it was the evening of the third day of July, and Severus had no clue why he was instructed to appear before his master now, when he wouldn’t be gathering Harry from the Muggles until the end of the month. Regardless, the intensity was starting to get to Severus and he broke into a run, clueless as to why his lord wanted him at the manor at _that_ moment, and not a second later. The gates to Hogwarts grew in his sight and he was quick to send a stream of magic with his identification so they’d be open by the time he reached the wrought iron fencing.

The moment Severus set foot outside of Hogwarts’ anti-Apparition wards, he was gone, Apparating to Riddle Manor and his impatiently waiting master. He appeared in the entrance hall and cursed as the mark sent a sharp sting to his nervous system. He continued to run down the hallways to the throne room, pulling up his hood and sticking his mask on simultaneously.

The doors flew open at his approach, and Severus slowed to a fast walk as he approached the dais. His master was smirking suspiciously from his throne, sitting quietly. When he was close enough to Lord Voldemort, Severus dropped to a knee and bowed his head before rising and facing his master. “My Lord,” he mumbled as Voldemort stood again.

The man’s red eyes glinted as he replied, “Sseverss, my loyal sservant. What is your news of Dumbledore?”

Severus was a little surprised – his master’s need for knowledge was what had brought him here so fast? He shook off his shock and told him what had happened when Harry arrived – not mentioning Barty-as-Moody because he still wasn’t aware of that fact – and the events that followed as the teen recovered in the hospital wing.

“So Harry is fine then, and Dumbledore suspects neither of you,” Voldemort concluded.

Snape agreed and waited for Voldemort to tell him the other reason why he was still waiting. Voldemort noted his impatience and brought up the next topic – rescuing Harry from the Muggles.

“You can fetch him later in the month, correct?”

“Yes, my Lord, but he has a watcher, a Squib in place on orders of Dumbledore, who can owl or Floo him at any given time. Dumbledore also alternates guards from the Order who watch the boy, and they rotate on a daily basis, sometimes many times a day. He has plans to bring the boy to him before Potter’s next birthday.”

“And of the Order?”

“My apologies, my Lord, but the headquarters is hidden behind a certain spell which involves a secret keeper, and I am unable to divulge the location.” Snape bowed his head, as if shamed by his lack of control in the situation, and Voldemort waved off the disappointment.

Voldemort was only really frustrated at the brainpower of Dumbledore to look up a borderline Dark spell just to protect his precious Headquarters from capture. The man figured he’d work on finding the place once Harry was reunited with him, when the boy was safe at his side rather than facing off with Dumbledore and his minions.

Snape continued, “Apparently, after de-boarding the train, Harry expressed his desire to be alone in the Muggle World this summer and that he’d see his friends on the platform come September. However, Dumbledore has mentioned that he believes Harry will be more comfortable in the headquarters with his friends, godfather, and selected members of the Order.”

Voldemort nodded, his mind whirring as he spun various plans over the circumstances with which he was faced. He wanted Harry back in his possession, but if Dumbledore was going to take the boy against his will, then Voldemort would have to come up with a new plan.

“Also, there is an alert around that someone may have murdered Alastor Moody. His body was found around six this evening, in one of his trunk’s compartments. It looked as if he were pushed, though all of the castle’s remembrance spells show that no one was in the room. Moody was reportedly packing, having handled his resignation with Dumbledore this morning while the students left the school.” To his surprise, the smile on his master’s face didn’t fade; in truth, Snape could swear it brightened, and he became quite frightened, though hid it behind his near-patented Snape face.

“Moody’s decease bears good news, and now I wait for my loyal servant to return,” Voldemort stated, his mind whirling with the new advancement. This meant that Crouch was undiscovered, and they no longer had opposition in the form of a top ex-Auror, Moody. “Harry’s departure from the Muggles will be arranged once we have more news on the Order’s plans, so you must keep your eyes open,” he ordered. It would be much easier to have someone under Polyjuice replace Harry in the Order’s headquarters, but Voldemort knew the chance for discovery, and thus the ruin of his plans, would be too great.

Snape nodded and left on Voldemort’s orders to return with more news the next week. He had less than two days to clear out his rooms in Hogwarts and set up at his house in Spinner’s End, so his departure for the Dark would go unnoticed. Severus sincerely hoped that Dumbledore’s plans would fall conveniently into Voldemort’s hands, or heads were going to roll under his master’s wand.

-o-

Harry was exceedingly irritated at the moment. His relatives had happily ignored him while his uncle drove them back to Privet Drive, his aunt and uncle too content to talk to Dudley about his term at Smeltings. Not even a minute after stepping foot into the house, Harry had been shoved up the stairs into the littlest bedroom with Hedwig, while his trunk was shoved into the cupboard under the stairs and locked away.

He was only grateful the Weasley twins had thought it prudent to teach Harry to pick locks, in the event he was stuck somewhere unpleasant during the Tournament. The first chance he had to unlock the cupboard door – with Petunia shopping, Vernon at work, and Dudley at his friend’s house – Harry picked the lock open and took out the Occlumency and Legilimency textbooks Snape lent him. He then spent the hours locked in his room memorizing the contents and trying to shape the lessons into something usable for his mind.

Learning the material from the books was certainly slow going, as Harry had always been a learn-from-example type of student; Hermione was the bookworm, not him. However, he applied himself to the task, as it was his mind that needed protection, not Hermione’s, and he needed the skills as soon as possible.

A few weeks passed by in the same strain, Harry studying the texts while his relatives were out of the house, and keeping his head down and completing all of the inane chores while they were home.

The summer was filled with droughts, and thus the yards in Little Whinging died to a dull, ugly brown. Harry was sometimes woken in the middle of the night to sneak outside and stealthily water the flowers, out of sight of the neighbors. He had yet to be caught, and Harry could only hope he wouldn’t be punished when the Dursleys were discovered and fined.

Other than studying and chores, Harry had little to do for the summer. He would oftentimes hide beneath the family room window, which was wide open in the hopes of encouraging a gust of wind to flow through the house, and listen to the news, hoping to hear of any magical incidents in the mundane world, but to no avail. The Dursleys always ended up discovering him in his hiding spot and would chase him away with angry words and threats.

So Harry wandered, lurking around playgrounds after the children left for the day, hoping Dudley and his gang of bullies wouldn’t bother him; Dudley had gained a semblance of self-preservation, though, and always walked away when Harry was nearby.

But Harry followed Dudley into an alley one night, since getting back to the Dursleys after Dudley arrived home would result in Harry sleeping outside in the shed.

The intense cold alerted Harry to their presence. All the lights in the alley vanished, including the moon and stars above. Harry heard Dudley collapse to the ground in fear, the ghastly rattle of breath through open ribcages, the wind between the buildings. He stood firm, his wand alight before him, throwing the dementors’ shadows onto the walls in grotesque formations.

His Patronus, filled with his hopes of his new future, made short work of the monsters, but the spell work, after three weeks without magic, had Harry panting for breath. With the lights of the neighborhood revealed once more, Harry saw Dudley prone on his back, his large chest heaving as he sucked in air like there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Harry vaguely remembered the sensation from when he was almost Kissed himself, but doesn’t hold any sympathy for his cousin.

He contemplated casting an Imperious on Dudley, if only to get him to move, when the _slap, slap!_ of slippers on pavement has him turning to a new arrival. He tucked his wand away quickly and peered down the street as Mrs. Figg, the crazy cat lady, ran toward them.

“Don’t put that away!” she shouted to him, and her words startled Harry enough that he pulled the wand out of his pocket once more and pointed it at the woman. She waved her carpetbag at him and ordered, “Help him up, we must get out of the open if they come back!”

Harry eyed her warily but complied, and nearly hauled Dudley down the street while Mrs. Figg ranted about some Mundungus Fletcher man and Dumbledore. Oh, that explained so much, and irritated Harry to no end – there was a figure in his neighborhood that knew of the magical world, and she was unable to tell Harry of his true heritage? Harry wanted to come out as Dark, if only to slap Dumbledore in the face with the possibility that, had he clued Harry into the happenings before Hogwarts, the future events may have been different. But no, Dumbledore kept secrets and now Harry was furious, a cold fury that only burned the longer it was held in.

By the time Harry and Dudley reached the Dursley home, Dudley had gotten his feet under him in time to vomit across the doormat, narrowly missing his mother’s feet. Harry sidled in while his aunt was distracted by her son, and had hoped to get up the stairs in order to send a letter to Voldemort asking him what was going on, who sent the dementors, because _the Dark Lord_ certainly hadn’t set dementors after Harry.

But his fat cousin blamed Harry for the entire affair, even though Dudley wasn’t able to do more than lie on the ground and groan as the dementor nearly Kissed him. But even his uncle’s purpling face couldn’t make Harry worried; he was angry at so many factors and only wished he had been taken to Voldemort’s manor weeks earlier, rather than having to come back to the Dursleys for some unnamed reason.

The owl that flew through the open window in the living room cemented Harry’s anger. The Ministry expelled him from Hogwarts for performing underage magic, and an official was en route to snap his wand, his only real connection to the Wizarding world. Harry couldn’t take the chance that Malfoy would be that official, especially because Harry didn’t really know what the man’s purpose in the Ministry was, nor could he take the chance that Draco had even revealed his knowledge to the elder man at all.

Harry whipped out his wand, ignored his furious relatives, and unlocked the cupboard before he summoned his belongings from the small bedroom upstairs. Harry pushed the textbooks into the trunk after pulling out his Firebolt, and locked the case before shrinking it. Hedwig was out hunting, which ruined Harry’s chances of sending a missive to the Dark Lord and the Malfoys, both of whom could actually help him with the situation. However, he had everything packed away, and Harry continued to ignore his uncle’s furious screeches as he yelled at him about performing the abhorrent magic.

With the intent of flying somewhere safe to hide, Harry stalked to the kitchen door and was almost brained by another owl bearing a letter, this time carrying news of Dumbledore trying to fix Harry’s magic use and expulsion at the Ministry. Harry was officially trapped; he could no longer leave the Dursley home and hide away, for Dumbledore was involved in the magic incident and Harry couldn’t take the chance the old wizard would send somebody to collect Harry and take him to the Burrow, which was far away from Voldemort’s aid.

Harry fumed, slamming the back door shut and collapsing at the table in a chair across from Dudley. He eyed his cousin, who was still green from nearly getting his soul sucked out of him. Uncle Vernon took Harry’s seat at the table as a gesture to get in Harry’s face and yell at him, spittle flying. Harry wiped off his glasses as he recounted the events of the evening, leaving out the discovery of Mrs. Figg as a squib.

He was interrupted by the arrival of another owl, this one bearing news of his reinstatement into Hogwarts with no penalties towards his wand; Harry nearly growled and set the paper on fire with a wave of his wand, watching as it singed the table. Vernon jumped away, his chins jerking with the motion, and ceased talking as his face darkened once more.

Harry rested his chin on his hand and thought about flying to Voldemort’s manor anyways, and just showing up at the trial with no explanation as to his whereabouts. He decided that was the best course of action and got to his feet, intent on walking away from his despicable relatives and calling it quits. He opened the door and an owl dropped yet another letter at his feet. Harry bent down to grab it and tore open the parchment; he found a simple note:

_Stay – SS_

Harry hissed furiously and slammed the door once more, slouching back into the kitchen chair. He couldn’t believe that of the two letters he received, neither from the ministry, no one asked him just what he was doing with magic in the Muggle neighborhood. Next time he saw them, Harry was going to give them a piece of his mind, because this was absolutely ridiculous.

He glanced up at his relatives and was prepared to leave, as Vernon looked like he was about ready to throw Harry out of his household with the abundance of owls; Harry saw that Petunia was terrified out of her mind, but he couldn’t care less.

Vernon opened his mouth to get Harry to leave when yet another owl flew into the house, dropping a smoking red letter before Petunia. _Remember my last, Petunia_ , a man’s voice stated, and the letter burst into flames. Harry was sent to his room, and he locked and silenced the door behind him rather than listen to his relatives argue over why he was still staying in the house.

-o-

Hedwig returned from her hunt later that night, and Harry already had two letters written out for her to deliver. The first was for Voldemort:

_I have been attacked by dementors and have a pending expulsion from Hogwarts, along with the destruction of my wand. I have gotten letters from the Weasley family about what Dumbledore is doing to help out with my trial, but I think I am going to need more help than them, since they have very little standing, if any at all. Dumbledore can only do so much, and the majority of people in the Ministry dislike him immensely._

_Snape has also gotten in contact with me, I assume on your terms, and I can only hope that I will not be sent to the Burrow, where I will be unable to escape and spend the rest of the summer at your manor._

_-HP_

The next, Harry sent to Draco:

_Your father most likely knows, but I have received letters concerning my future enrollment at Hogwarts. I require assistance in dismissing the trial being held at the Ministry, especially before Dumbledore gets more involved than he already is. Two dementors, obviously not sent by the Dark Lord, have attacked me; an investigation into their dismissal from Azkaban would be much appreciated._

_-H. Potter_

Harry doesn’t know what Voldemort could do to help his case, especially since he was still laying secretive in both the magical and mundane worlds, but he knew that Lucius Malfoy, with his gold lining so many authoritative pockets, would be able to plead his case, even if the man didn’t have any official position within the Ministry.

But no one replied to his letters, not even as much as an _I got it_ message. Then again, Hedwig never returned, so he couldn’t even be certain the letters reached their destinations. Harry fumed for days, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling.

His aunt continued to keep him locked in the bedroom, not even bothering to wake him up in the middle of the night to water the yard in the event he ran away; Petunia was certainly terrified of the threat within the Howler.

However, his relatives left on the fourth night of Harry’s permanent installment in the smallest bedroom. He remained locked in his room, where he continued to stare at the ceiling, occasionally spinning his wand between his fingers, or glancing over the Occlumency textbooks he eventually removed from his resized trunk. His room darkened and Harry didn’t bother getting up and turning on the light; he rolled over to face the wall and contemplated falling asleep, since it had to be more interesting than his current predicament.

Something shattered on the first floor and Harry sat up in bed – was someone breaking into the house? He kept quiet, only hoping the burglars would leave him alone if they came across a locked door. But then numerous voices sounded and Harry crept out of bed and bared his wand, tensing when the door unlocked itself with a click. He was dealing with wizards, then; that was nice to know.

Harry stalked out of the room on socked feet and approached the staircase, freezing as he saw the outlines of at least eight people staring up at him. “Put that wand away!” a voice sounded, and Harry recognized it as Professor Lupin.

He cursed mentally as he whispered, “Professor Lupin, is that you?”

An unfamiliar female voice sounded. “ _Lumos_!” Her wand tip lit, and all Harry could stare at was her furiously bright, purple hair. “There, that’s better,” she added, before Lupin spoke again.

“To check your identity as Harry Potter, what did I teach you privately at Hogwarts?” Lupin questioned him.

“You taught me how to cast a Patronus charm,” Harry replied dutifully as he examined the people clustered at the bottom of the stairs. Lupin went on about where they were going before Harry could ask to confirm the man’s identity, but he figured the group wasn’t Death Eaters, if only because they would have done something upon confirmation of his identity – maybe handing him robes and his mask.

“Where is this headquarters at?” Harry questioned the group; if he wasn’t going to the Burrow, he didn’t know how Voldemort would get to him. Though, he could always be taken from the Ministry if Lucius was unable to halt the trial proceedings.

The group ignored his question, and instead introduced his little fan club. The purple haired woman was Nymphadora “Call me Tonks or else” Tonks, the tall black man was Kingsley Shacklebolt, a wizened man introduced himself as Elphias Doge, an anxious man as Dedalus Diggle, a composed witch as Emmeline Vance, a very square wizard as Sturgis Podmore, and a cheerful witch as Hestia Jones. Harry stared them all in the eye as they were introduced, committing their faces and names to memory.

“So what is going to happen? I’ve been stuck here with no useful communication from anyone, and if you’re working with Dumbledore I’m assuming you know of Vol-.“

Several people cut him off and Shacklebolt stated, “We will be discussing nothing here. Cease discussion and gather your belongings; we leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Then how are we getting to headquarters?” Harry rebutted, irritated at getting nothing answered. Hell, maybe going to this headquarters place would be better than going to Voldemort’s mansion, if only to gather information. But then again, Snape was the spy, and that was his role.

“We’re going to fly, since you aren’t old enough to Apparate, the Ministry is devoutly watching the Floo network, and Portkeys have too much at risk in the event something goes wrong,” Lupin replied.

Harry stared down at them, ignoring Tonks as she advanced up the stairs. “Did none of you even consider side-along Apparation?”

The entire group flushed and stared down at the floor. “I don’t think anyone considered that,” Vance replied, her voice curt around her embarrassment.

“I would probably survive better on my own,” Harry muttered, uncaring that Tonks and Lupin both could hear him.

Tonks dragged him away from the stairs, pulling him into his room and staring at the disaster spilling out of his trunk as the cluster of people below planned a new strategy. She waved her wand, packing everything away, including his broom, and shrunk down the trunk before handing it to Harry.

They went downstairs, where the group had shrunk considerably. There was another loud crack and a wizard – Diggle – appeared again and said, “The coast at headquarters is clear, we can go.”

Lupin stretched out his arm. “Hold on tightly, Harry, and don’t let go no matter what you feel.”

Then they were in a vortex, and what felt like minutes later, stood on a grassy patch of ground before a large townhouse. Harry bent over, trying to get rid of the cramping in his stomach, and gasped as he was grabbed on both sides and dragged off the curb and into the street. They finally stopped walking as they stood before the long building. Jones extended her arm and the streetlights went out one by one, which she attributed to Dumbledore’s Put-Outer.

Lupin handed Harry a sheet of paper with a quick, “Memorize this,” before he stood quietly next to Harry.

He glanced at the scrap of parchment and could barely make out the words, _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_ , in the moonlight.

“Do you have it memorized yet?” Remus asked him, reaching for the scrap of paper again.  
Harry nodded and jumped when several cracks sounded through the street. Lupin sprang away from Harry, his wand outstretched, and the teen grabbed his own, bearing it wildly at the darkened street.

Spell light broke the night as cloaked figures approached the members of the Order; a couple people dropped immediately, unsuspecting of an attack this close to the end of their mission. Harry scoffed to himself at the ineptitude of the people sent to protect him.

“Everybody move!” Lupin screamed, and he shoved Harry toward the recently appeared door. The piece of paper fluttered out of Harry’s hand as Lupin pushed him between the shoulders, and he could do nothing as it fluttered to the pavement. Harry narrowed his eyes angrily, for the Order members were herding him away from his chance of rescue, and he had accidentally dropped the bit of paper with the address of their hidden headquarters.

Harry stumbled over the curb and went to his knees, where he tripped a few Order members too hasty to check the ground as they fired spells in all directions. The Death Eaters swarmed the group all at once and two hands seized Harry around the ankles, dragging him out from under Diggle’s feet; the man stumbled but Harry wasn’t there to see him fall, for he was already hooked under his bellybutton and was taken away by Portkey.

He landed hard and wasn’t given any chance of respite as Severus Snape shoved his mask on his face and hauled him into a sitting position to wrap robes over his shoulders. Harry breathed hard for a few moments before Severus grabbed him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. Harry leaned against the man, unable to stand on his own just then. In a daring move, Harry hugged the surly potions master around the stomach and mumbled, “Thanks, Sev,” into his shoulder.

Snape snorted and gently pushed Harry off of him. “It’s time to move; he’s waiting for you, you little joker,” he replied, not unfondly. Truly, not seeing Harry in class and then being unable to say negative things about him before Voldemort had warmed up his opinions. Just a small bit, though; he would certainly never admit it, not even on pain of death.

Harry broke away from Severus and turned around to walk down a long hallway, where the throne room acted like a beacon of light. He ducked through the doorway and saw Voldemort pacing before a dozen or so masked Death Eaters.

Harry approached the Dark Lord, dipping his head toward the man before climbing the dais and slouching in the man’s throne, much to the gasps of the Death Eaters below.

“Brat,” Voldemort commented fondly as he walked to his chair and brushed fingers over Harry’s hair, who tilted his head back into the comforting gesture.

“I missed you,” Harry whispered, staring up at the man.

Voldemort smirked and replied, “You’re back now,” and returned to his followers.

Harry dozed on the throne, ignoring Voldemort’s affairs with the present Death Eaters and those that appeared with news of the brief battle at the Order’s headquarters (at later discussion, Harry found that none of the Death Eaters were able to find the slip of paper, and all had assumed an Order member had picked it up before retreating into the house).

Eventually, Voldemort dismissed the last of his Death Eaters and stood over Harry. Rather than wake the sleeping teen, he bent and picked Harry up. He left the throne room and headed toward his bedroom, where he decided Harry would stay while at the manor; Harry was laid on the bed and Voldemort stripped him of robes, mask, shoes, and jeans. He tucked the teen’s wand under his pillow and resized his trunk.

All the while, Harry slept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Claustro_ – charm - keeps item closed - Latin  
>  ** _Tacitsonus_ – charm – blocks sound from escaping – Latin
> 
> What did you think of the changes? Do you have any idea where I'm going with this series now that I have taken out a few things, and added many more?
> 
> Please comment if you see any errors; this work is unBeta'd.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://www.SweetlyDesolated.tumblr.com)!


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